The boat drifted on, the men for the most part resting upon their oars.

It was not desired to float far from the ship, since the best hope of rescue lay in keeping in her vicinity. The fog was slowly lightening, and the flare of the electric lights showed a faint gold patch through the grey. Katrine kept her eyes fixed on that patch. So long as it continued, she could hold on to hope. If it died out, so would the light fade from her own life...

Sitting huddled in her seat, Jackey's little form pillowed in her arm, Katrine's thoughts reviewed her past life and marvelled at the strangeness of it. Paced with the possibility of death, all the years that were past counted for nothing as compared with the happening of a few short days. Martin, Grizel, the friends and companions of her youth--she repeated their names, and sought to visualise each countenance in turn. In vain! the likenesses refused to appear; even Martin's face was blurred, or was it that she had not enough patience, enough interest, to spare for the effort? Bedford was the world; apart from him she was incapable of a regret.

The boat drifted on. Now the sailors had turned her head and were rowing slowly back towards the ship. The yellow blur still shone through the fog. The men discussed together as to the amount of damage that had been done, the possibility of keeping the hulk afloat. Nancy Mannering turned and spoke into Katrine's ear:

"My dear, one word! ... You mayn't suspect it, but I've a heart--. In a physical Sense, I mean, no sentiment; and it's a poor thing. I don't expect to be drowned, but a little more of this excitement, and it may play tricks. It's all one, I'm not whining, but if I _should_ pan out, and you get through, will you just write to my boy? Tell him I asked you, and that he is not to grieve. Bound to go somehow, some day, and, why not now? I've no particular wish to live on here, but you can tell him this--wherever I am, whatever comes next, there'll be no peace for me unless _he_ keeps straight! That I _know_, and he'd better know it, too." She was silent for some moments, during which Katrine heard the quick intake of her breath, then: "And tell him," she added with difficulty, "tell him I've always been an ostrich, hiding, not my head, but my heart. Somehow I couldn't let it out, but," her voice deepened to a full, rich note, "there's never been a moment of his life, since he was born, when I wouldn't have been flayed--_slowly_! for his good!

Tell him his mother loved him more than her life."

"I'll tell him; I won't write. I'll travel the length of India, if need be, to tell him myself," cried Katrine, deeply touched. To discover a hidden weakness in her jaunty, self-sufficient companion was to feel herself infused with new strength. She was needed, and the woman in her rose to the? demand. She hitched Jackey on one side so as to free her right arm, and fumbling in her companion's pocket found and extracted the flask.

"Meantime, if you have no care for yourself, think of _him_, and be careful for _his_ sake. What is the use of talking of love, if you won't do even that for his sake? Be sensible for yourself as well as for other people!"

"Mr d.i.c.k, your common-sense is invaluable!" Mrs Mannering drank, smacked her lips, and grunted with satisfaction. "That's good! That's better. I needed that." Then after a momentary pause. "Remember though, _if I do_ come through, your work is to forget. No bringing up of deathbed confidences! ... Anything in the same line that I can do for yourself?"

"No," answered Katrine shortly. If the end came, Martin and Grizel could console each other without help from her. And their figures were misty. Even Jackey himself counted for more at this moment, embodying as he did a great potential possibility of life. As for Jim Blair--ah!

let Jim hug his false dreams: let him never awake!

The hours dragged on. The children slept; some of the women slept also, worn out by their fears. Katrine's cramped arms still held their burden, but Nancy Mannering had turned herself round in her seat, presenting her broad back as a support.

"Let yourself go, my dear; lean your weight on me. Nothing like a support to your back. I was at the opera just before I sailed--six shillings' worth of gallery, and never a rail at the back. Leaned back against a young lad's knees, and he wriggled in seventeen fits.

Prudery, eh? Or perhaps I was too old. Well! Well!"

The voice had its old jaunty tone, but the language in which she spoke was unintelligible. _Opera_! Katrine shrank at the sound. Face to face with death, the trivial happenings of life retreated to an illimitable distance. Was it possible that one had ever cared for such baubles--had counted them among the goods of life!

At the stern of the boat a woman was praying aloud, while those around joined in with tears and sobs. Katrine roused herself to listen, and caught fervid confessions of sin and wrong-doing. Her thoughts turned inward; she also ought to pray, to make confession. Drearily she asked herself what she had done, and failed to discover a tangible offence.

Honestly she had endeavoured; honestly she had refrained. Looking back over her life she could find no shrinking from duty, no unfair dealing, no violation of a law. She had not "gone astray," she had not been "vile and sinful altogether"; the woman's abas.e.m.e.nt of self-blame left her untouched. The searchlight of conscience revealed sin indeed, but not of commission. _Lack of level_--that was the flaw--of whole-hearted, unselfish love which gave all and asked for no return; love which could transform the commonest events, and make of duty a joy!

Grizel possessed that love; a spring of tenderness and sympathy, welling within her heart. She had found it easy to live with a querulous old woman. "She doesn't worry me: I _love_ her!" Katrine heard again the tone of the deep, rich voice giving the simple explanation. She herself had placed Martin before all created things, but there had been no tenderness in her heart. With opened eyes she looked back on the critical, exacting sentiment which she had called love, and found it unworthy the name. Her arms tightened round the sleeping child. This then was the secret of life. Love--"the fulfilment of the law." If life were spared, it would be the motive spring for which she would strive; given that, the rest would follow. The women at her side were imploring for forgiveness, and comfort in death. Katrine prayed for life. "More life: fuller life! _Fill my mean heart_--!"

Ten minutes later when the rescuing ship steamed into view the sight which should have brought exhilaration broke down the most sternly-kept composure. Men and women wept together, wept and laughed, and sobbed and clung, even the most composed giving way to their emotion now that the strain was at an end.

On she came, a stately form, summoned by the wondrous message of the air, racing through the water to the n.o.ble work of rescue. Nearer and nearer, until she was close at hand, and white faces looked down from the crowded decks. The nightmare of removal from the boat was accomplished in safety. Katrine felt her waist encircled by a tender arm, and heard a woman's voice addressing her in tremulous tones. Her cramped limbs could hardly move, she was half-led, half-carried into a luxurious cabin, undressed, laid in a warm, fresh bed, fed with soup and wine. The women who waited upon her shed tears as they worked, but she herself was dry-eyed. She was thinking of that yellow glimmering light through the fog, the light of the ship which held her world,--the ship with a hole in her side...

But an hour later Nancy Mannering came to her bedside with a face working with emotion, to tell glad news. The pa.s.sengers of the injured ship had been transferred to the C--, but the crew remained at their posts, for the water-tight compartments were bravely doing their work, and there was hope of keeping her afloat until Bombay Harbour could be reached. Meantime the rescuing vessel had her in tow.

"Shut your eyes, my beauty, and sleep!" said Nancy Mannering gently.

"He's off to his bed. I've seen him, and touched him, and heard his voice. He's a real live man and no ghost, as to-morrow morning you'll see for yourself, and if you ever say good-bye to him again,--well! you deserve all you may get.--Go to sleep, child, go to sleep, and thank the good G.o.d!"

But the next morning Katrine did not get up. She was prostrate with physical collapse, and there was no mental effort to spur her into action. She did not want to meet Bedford. Now that safety was a.s.sured, it was torture to remember her own words, and to realise that the first confession of love had come from her own lips, not his. She welcomed the weariness and pain which kept her a prisoner in the cabin; dreaded the meeting which must inevitably come. The dread and the shame, the excitement and the distress, increased her physical ailments; the doctor was summoned, once and again, before the day was over, and other methods failing prescribed a sleeping-draught to secure a night's rest before landing. As a result Katrine slept heavily, but awoke to so crushing a headache that movement appeared out of the question.

No matter, Nancy Mannering a.s.sured her. It would be hours before the ship had disgorged her double complement of pa.s.sengers, to say nothing of the luggage. She was to lie still, recover slowly, go on sh.o.r.e quietly later on when the fuss and racket were over. The captain had sent a special message to a.s.sure her of his consideration and help. Two other women were prostrate like herself. They also were to wait.

Katrine settled down again into a fitful sleep, through which the tramp of feet, the clamour of voices, the banging of luggage, beat confusedly upon her brain. From time to time Mrs Mannering crept in to look at her, and stole out unnoticed; it was not until late in the afternoon, when quiet reigned on the deck overhead, that she met opened eyes and a smile of welcome.

"I'm dreadfully lazy! I'm afraid it's ever so late, but I can dress quickly now for my head is better. Is--?"

She stopped short, flushing, but Mrs Mannering was intentionally obtuse.

"Yes, all right! The poor old ship kept up to the end. They are getting out the baggage. Pray heaven it is _dry_! in any case we'll be thankful for what we can get. It looked as if we might not have a rag to our backs. That good soul Anderson is looking after our part of the spoil; Captain Bedford would have done it, but it was all he could do to get through himself. Had to rush off to take up a company by the first train. They've been kept waiting for him by this upset. However, our rooms are booked at the hotel, and we can lie low for a few days till we get our breath."

Katrine stared blankly. She had shrunk from the thought of meeting Bedford, yet it came as a shock to hear that he had gone on and left her behind. They had _all_ gone on,--the pa.s.sengers among whom she had lived so closely during those last weeks; but for Nancy Mannering she was alone in the strange new world. It was a lonesome feeling. She sat on the side of her bunk, smiling a difficult smile.

"Oh! Yes. That will be nice. And my friends have arranged for my journey. The agent will call--"

"Be hanged to agents! I've sworn by all my G.o.ds to stick to you till I see you safely landed with your friends. It's only a few score miles out of my way, and that counts for nothing in this country. The good Bedford will see me housed when we arrive."

"Scores of miles out of your way! For _me_? Mrs Mannering, it is too much! I can't let you do it. You are the kindest, most unselfish of creatures."

Mrs Mannering grimaced.

"Don't be too sure!" she said dryly. "Curiosity poses under many forms.

I've a weakness for being on in the last act. Well! dress yourself, and come along, and be sure to speak prettily to the captain before you leave. He's behaved like a brick. There's tea in the saloon."

By six o'clock Katrine and her chaperon were safely housed in the hotel, appreciating as they had never done before the blessings of _terra firma_. The next morning their baggage was restored to them, practically undamaged, and what was to Katrine most important of all, a letter arrived from Jim Blair.

She sat alone in her room holding the unopened envelope in her hand, gaining courage for the ordeal of reading the loving words. Strange how deep a hold this unknown man had taken of her affections! Bedford she loved with the stored-up pa.s.sion of her life, but even Bedford himself had not been able to lessen her tenderness towards the man who had come into her life at the moment when she needed him most, and brought solace to her sore heart. It was cruelly hard to be obliged to bring pain and disappointment to so generous a lover. She flinched and coloured at the thought of her own conduct as viewed from the outside--just the weak, commonplace story of the pretty girl who starts on a voyage which is to bring her to a waiting lover, meets another man _en route_, and is false to her tryst,--but it was typical of Katrine's conception of the character of her unknown lover, that through all her troubled thoughts the conviction remained that Jim would understand,--that however he might suffer he would neither be bitter nor unjust.

She sighed, and bracing herself resolutely, tore open the envelope. The blood rushed to her face as she read the opening words:

"My Own Katrine,

"No! I am not breaking my truce. This little breathing s.p.a.ce between the sea voyage and the start up-country doesn't count in the scheme.

It's a No-man's land, of which this man would be a fool if he didn't take possession forthwith!

"Besides, beloved, there are things that I want to say; things that _need_ to be said... Your journey is nearly over, our meeting is close at hand, and if the truth were known there's more fear than expectation in your heart! I know you too well not to realise that--_but the fear must go_! Get it out of your head once for all, little girl, that you have anything to dread from me. I want you, I want you badly, but most of all I want your happiness. That sounds the sort of thing one reads in books--just a bit too lofty and impersonal to be true, but if you come to worry it out, it's only a higher kind of selfishness. Once love with your own heart and soul, love some one, that is to say, _more than yourself_, and as the most obvious of consequences, happiness is impossible for yourself unless it has first and foremost filled that other heart. Don't worry yourself by any idea that you are pledged to me, in honour bound, or any nonsense of the kind. You are _not_; you are as free as air. If you should happen to like another man better than me (you won't!) I'd help you to him. If you don't want me (you will!) I'll stand aside. Dear little girl, be aisy! I'm on your side.

"That 'mad' letter of yours was delicious sense. The veritable Katrine revealed herself more therein than in any letter I have yet received.

And your little discourse on tenderness--that touched me! It is a quality which, as you say, is wanting in the love of many men, and the lack of it leaves a record on the faces of weary women. But, after all, you know, the doing or undoing, whichever you choose to call it, is in the main the fault of some other woman in the past! Why do mothers spoil their boys instead of training them in the small domestic kindnesses and attentions which will be so valuable later on? If I had a son... upon my life I believe I'd spoil him too!

"Seriously though, Katrine, it must be pre-eminently tenderness which is filling my heart today, for I _can_ imagine; I _can_ understand! I am so sorry for you, poor, puzzled girl! Is that a good augury for the future?

"I shall come in to see you at the Middleton bungalow the day you arrive. No club meetings for me. Just an hour or two for rest and refreshment, and then--enter Jim Blair! Poor little girl, are you trembling in your shoes? If only I could convince you of my sincerity!

Was it for nothing, Katrine, that my heart went out to you across the seas; was it for nothing that my cry touched your heart; was it for nothing that after years of block and difficulty, the way was opened out which brings you here to me? Go on in faith for one week longer!

"Jim Blair."

The letter fell from Katrine's hands and fluttered to the ground. She hid her face in her hands.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

The delight and excitement which is felt by most travellers on a first introduction to the East was dimmed in Katrine's case by the pressure of events past and to come. The shadow of death had loomed too recently to be easily repelled. The thought of what might have been pierced knife-like through the thankfulness for what was, and recovered life seemed a frail and dream-like treasure hardly as yet to be realised.

Katrine found some comfort in the fact that she was not alone in absent-mindedness and lack of appreciation, since Nancy Mannering also was far from her normal self. She was restless, and on edge; at once excited and reserved, affectionate and chilling. She would sit through a whole meal in silence, and leave the table chuckling with laughter.